Of the Sea and Of the Land
by fanfictor17
Summary: Centuries ago, a band of travelers ship-wrecked onto an island, mysterious and uncharted. But is the island truly deserted? / In present day, Canada is given an assignment that takes him to unknown shores, where he meets an unidentified nation, lost to the outside world.
1. Storm--Paperwork

Halfdan jumped as another thunderclap sounded, stinging his ears. He blinked heavily, trying to clear the rain from his eyes, which desperately searched the horizon.

His comrades rowed, their grunts and yells lost to the piercing wind of the storm. Their small vessel danced on the waves as would a man when bullets targeted his feet.

Halfdan knew that they wouldn't last much longer on the merciless ocean; lost for days now, supplies and morale were dangerously low, soothed only by the knowledge that somewhere close, there HAD to be land. The burly blonde remembered the strange dark birds from earlier in the day, which had given him a renewed sense hope- where there were birds, there were nests, meaning solid earth to gather the materials for and set the nest.

Out of the corner of his rainy-grey eye, he saw a dark flicker. Halfdan turned his head in that direction, but a great big wave took the place of the flicker. The water shoved the boat onto its side, throwing nearly all the cargo into the deep wet abyss.

Sten and Gudmund, Halfdan's cousins climbed over the misplaced side of the boat, trying to spin it back. The rest of the men saw their example and clung to the side, eventually turning the boat back. The cousins tried to clamber back inside, but the salty spray that coated all loosened their grips- only Gudmund made it of the two, grabbed at the final moment by Halfdan's wife, Kamini. Another man aided in pulling them in towards the centre of the ship.

That large wave now passed, Halfdan looked, before another wave could take its place, to where the flicker had been.

"There!" he cried, but his voice was lost to the wind.

"Over there!" he tried again, pointing with his arm, praying his other arm didn't lose grip on the prow.

It was a tree! Cutting out of the water, the Norsemen could barely spot the trunk, let alone the land it sprouted from. The remaining oars were grabbed, and a valiant effort was made to turn the group towards the dissappearing flora.

The angry ocean seemed to have had its fill of the vikings, and one final push of the waves shoved them towards their target; though much too hard.

The _knarr_ left the water and overturned again, this time fully. Halfdan's last sight, before being thrown into the deep darkness, was his two treasures, Kamini and the _knarr_, hit the tree, the latter slicing both itself and the flora into thousands of shards.

The only thing he could do now, was keep his mouth clamped shut against the water's salty kiss, as he was tumbled along, not sure wether he was traveling towards the bottom, or the hiding moon.

-0-

Canada groaned as he leant back in his desk chair, listening to his spine crack as it stretched, audibly reminding him just how long he had been stuck in one position all day, tortured by paperwork. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, replacing Quebec over his light violet orbs as he stared out the window, watching a few raindrops race down the glass.

Every country had at least a _little_ paperwork from their bosses, and not a single one didn't grumble about it, even the sweet-natured Canadian.

Bzzz BZZZZZZZ

Jumping at the sudden noise from his phone, Matthew quickly grabbed it and saw that it was a text from his brother, good old US of A.

_**-Whatcha** **doin?**_

_**Work** _he typed out, glaring half-heartedly at the remaining heap of papers in the 'to do' pile.

-_**sooooooo...no COD?**_

_**-no. Not for a while**_

Canadacould practically hear his twin's whine from his house, a little annoyed that Al was bored- meaning he had either finished his work already, or skipped it. Knowing America, it was probably the latter.

-**Go finish your work I don't want your boss complaining about me distracting you**

**-I did it all! **

**-Really?**

The two minute pause confirmed Matt's suspicions more than the text that eventually crept up on the screen.

**-Most of it**

**-I'll tell Arthur you **

Canada's thumb had slipped and sent the message before he finished typing, but what he had sent seemed to have gotten through to America alright.

**-Nooooooooooo bye I've got work to do**

Canada smirked as he turned off the phone screen and set the device back on the wood desk. He poked at the paperwork stack with his pen, shoving the top piece around like the pen was a joystick. He shifted the page around, uncovering the next piece.

Reading the first few words, he saw that he had accidentally printed multiple copies of the same page. Growling lightly, he sorted the pages again, half the pile going bye bye into the bin at his side.

_Well, at least there's not as much to do I guess._ He lamented the poor papers he had wasted for a moment before getting back to work.

That top page was slid off the stack with the pen, and looked over.

"Earthquake research?..." Matthew tried to remember why on Earth he would have this in the stack, when he suddenly recalled the last World Meeting.

_"Ah, Am- Canada-san?"_

_"Oh, hey Japan. What's up?"_

_"My boss asked me to send this along to you."_

_"Earthquakes?"_

_"Hai. I know you may not receive very many, but your scientists had expressed an interest..."_

_"Oh, thank you. I'll pass it along."_

Taking a new look at the document, Canada saw that most of the research had been done, and all that was left was several areas in the Atlantic ocean. There were even a few notes about Californian quakes and other states' data scribbled in in Alfred's handwritting.

Matt looked at the attched map and saw that one of the sections had been circled in dark red pen "_Search with caution, mg &amp; crnt dangers"._

Guessing that "crnt" was "current", as in 'ocean current', he had to flick through the pages to figure that "mg" meant "magnetic". A stickie note on the page also detailed how the area was essentially uncharted, due to the dangers.

"Oh, perfect." Canada grumbled aloud. "I better pack my bags then."


	2. The Boy--A Smudge

I crinkle my nose at the light touches, tiny fingers tickling my face, tracing my beard.

"What a curious boy he is," I think, my eyes still closed.

Wait...boy?

I fly up, my spine crackling at the sudden movement. I visually explore the area around me- a beach, it seems- but I am alone.

Touching my cheek, I can almost feel the other fingers still. Though my eyes had been closed, I just..._knew _that there had been a small boy with me.

My other hand, holding my torso steady, clenches. It almost closes, but for the sand entrapped in it. Bringing it closer to my face, I blink, adjusting still to the daylight.

The sand sparkles; black, red, brown.

"Strange," I murmur to myself. From other experiences with this material, it is usually much lighter, closer to gold in colour. I let it trail from my fingers onto my leg, flowing afterwards down onto the ground, joining its countless bretherin again. As the last few grains leave my hand (save for a few small sections caught in my sweat), I become aware of my overall soreness, and have to lie down. My whole body feels like it was set ablaze, and does not want to shift, lest the fire restart.

My mind slowly runs through yesterday's events, and the small tears that escape my eyes re-moisten my ears and hair, washing some of the salty ocean's kiss from my flesh.

_Kamini_

What of my wife? And the men? I watch the clouds crawl across the light sky, and pray to the gods that I am not the sole survivor.

_Am I even a survivor, though?_ My mind is cruel. I must be alive, I reason, from the soreness I feel. "There is no way this is Valhalla." I speak aloud, my usual low tenor raspy and crackling from thirst.

The sun grows hot on my face and I decide to move, at least a little, if just to get out of the burning light. It will do me no good if I stay so exposed to the weather, anyways. As I sit up, (slower than last time, now feeling each bruise on my torso) I peel off my soaked tunic, and undo my remaining boot. The tunic is full of small cuts, and when I prod one, it joins with another to create a larger hole. Even though I know better, I poke more and more of the holes, until the front of the garment is nearly splt in two.

My cloak went down with the _knarr_, so I drape my tunic over my back and ease into a standing position, steadying myself on the uneven and unstable sand. As I shift side to side, the sun's reflection on the water shifts, and illuminates something by the waters' edge. I make my way over, each leg gradually adjusting to the feel of pulling itself from the sinking ground.

The ocean tickles my toes while I dig the item loose: I am rewarded with my sword, scabbard included. I am lucky that the ocean did not claim it- the final gift from my father, before he grew ill, and could no longer work his forge. He took such care when making it, tracing a defensive rune into the base of the blade, and working a small emerald into the hilt. I almost couldn't accept the gift, seeing the burn marks on his hands when he presented it to me, though he tried to hide them in his sleeves. I finger the green stone now, and cannot help but smile, remembering Father. I hope Valhalla equipped him with a sturdy forge and all the materials he could ever want for his work.

Instinctively, I reach to tuck it into my belt, but then remember it did not make it through the storm, and have to carry my sword in hand.

I turn my back to the ocean, and take in the land- the dark sand, which, after looking at the water for so long blended right in as though I was standing on the waves, ascended slightly, then fell into a dark forest, seemingly sinking into the earth. Looking to either side, I see that the land curves around a bend on either end of the beach, dissapearing behind the turns.

I look to the sun, and decide to travel to the closer bend, that stretches to the north-west, if the sun's guidance tells me anything. I trek along, my head facing forward, but my eyes constantly checking the water and the land, for any strange movement, hopefully that of a comrade.

-0-

-0-

I hear the men before I see them, and I quicken my pace, recogising the tongues that are wagging. I had been walking for a while, and, once the trees had not offered danger, gave me shelter from the Sun. As such, the men did not see me until I spoke.

"Krusa! Bernhold! By Odin it is good to see you two!" I call, my voice breaking a little, still dry from the ocean.

"Halfdan? Is that really you?!" Bernhold drops something from his arms and comes running in towards me, and the two of us envelop into a hug, clapping each other's backs. My soreness has lifted somewhat, from the excercise, which is a relief, else this would have hurt more.

"We thought for sure you had not made it!" Krusa picked up what Bernhold dropped- one of the supply boxes from the ship, I think- before coming over. While Bernhold seems mostly unharmed, Krusa has his left arm tied up, bound to a wood plank with a shred from Bernhold's tunic, the cloth's colour giving it's origin away. Krusa sees my gaze and makes a small move to hide the injury.

"It is nothing. Just a scratch." His grey eyes divert, looking out to sea. "Have you any news of the others?"

"None." I taste the tartness of the word before it even crosses my lips, and we all grow silent as it settles, sending us into our thoughts, wondering how many more had made it to shore.

"We had best get out of the sun," I break the silence at long last, feeling the heat on the arm I have around Bernhold's shoulders. "We will have time to find everyone once we have rested."

-0-

It is only when we are settled into the shade of the forest (which proves denser than I thought, the trees clumping together in an entanglement of trunks and branches), that I remember my vision of the boy, and I realize I am touching my cheek, ghosting over the flesh.

"I hope the locals are kind," I murmur, which Krusa catches.

"Locals? You mean there are more people here?"

I glance over to Bernhold, who has gone further into the foliage to relieve himself. He is very exciteable, and has, on more than one occasion, gone running off at the mention of treasure, a few of those times in the wrong direction. I don't want to mention the boy in front of him, but I decide he's far enough away to not hear me telling Krusa about my morning.

"When I awoke," I lean in closer to my companion, who reciprocates my movement. "Before I opened my eyes, I felt someone touching my beard. A boy, I think. When I opened my eyes, he was gone."

"A boy?"

"Yes, quite young, maybe three or four years old, I believe."

"But, you said your eyes were closed-"

"I can't explain it." I wave my hands a little, exasperated at my inability to explain, to both Krusa and myself. "I did not see him, but...I still _saw _him. I don't understand it."

Krusa sits back, thinking. Whenever he starts to think deeply, his left eye wanders, shaking in its socket a little, not seeing. I watch the blue orb travel, trying to think as well, but the eye is distracting.

"A vision from Odin, perhaps?" The eye ceases its wandering and looks back to me. "Perhaps it is news of Kamini's survival?" Krusa is hinting at how my wife and I had yet to have any children, something I still long for, a family with my beloved.

I nod, agreeing. "Until we are sure though, I think it wise to keep this from Bernhold." I jerk my elbow to where he had gone, and, from the sounds that grow closer, he must be returning from. "He may get excited and go in search of the child, and we should stay together until our crew is whole again."

Krusa nods, and we turn our heads to spot Bernhold coming into view, some distance away. He must have taken the wrong way back. I call him back when he starts scouring the area, realising he might be lost. He sits down heavily, and we start to discuss our next move.

-0-

I really don't like leaving Kumajiji with America, but it's the lesser of two evils than leaving the cub home alone, so I wrestle the small furry fury out of the car and carry him across the yard and up the steps. I hold him up so he can ring the bell himself- a compromise of sorts- then pull him in close again, waiting for my brother to answer.

Waiting.

Waiiiiiiting.

Waiiiiiii-

Oh come on!

I ring the bell this time, making sure the button pushes all the way down, a faint chiming coming through the mahogany door. Well, at least I know the doorbell isn't broken.

I check my watch. Three minutes. That's all I can give him.

-0-

The five minutes I gave him gave me nothing, so, shifting Kukukajoob to my one side, I go for my keys. Good thing I have a copy of his (Al has a copy of mine, too: the unspoken rule about using them is that we have to ring the bell first, before barging in. Or, my rule is anyways.)

"You could just take me with you, maybe?"

"Better not; you'd get sea-sick, and freak out the crew."

"I'd be good! Like when I pretend I'm a toy on airplanes!"

"You mean you weren't just sleeping?"

I click open the door and push it open with my shoulder, putting the keys away. I slip off my sneakers before wandering into the house, peeking into the living room. It's empty- well, nothing living is in here, anyways. I step around the pizza-box fort to see better, but Al's not in here. I let Kurasai down (it's not like he can get out, right?) and take in the mess. He must have been binge-playing again, by the stack of delivery takeout boxes that compliment the fort.

The room is decorated to look fairly modern, but there are a few old keepsakes hanging around, which a human might take for family heirlooms. One such piece is the map on the wall- only the one side of our continent is actually traced, and very poorly at that. Most of Oceania isn't even on it.

"I remember this," I say to (mostly) myself, and the bear, who's probably not even listening. "This was Arthur's. He brought this with him whenever he visited..."

_"England? What's that?" A much younger Canada stood in the doorway to England's study, tucked away in an upper floor of America's house. America had been standing next to his twin, but had walked right in, wanting to know as well (and deciding that coming up close would help)._

_"Hm? Oh, it's the world, poppet." England, seeming only in his very late teens, pulled back, inviting the 8-year-old (physically, anyways) colonies to take a look. _

_"This is you two," he wiped his finger across North America, showing them. "And this is me over here." He quickly pointed to his little island, a little embarrassed about the size difference._

_"And this?" America stabbed the paper with his finger, making a slight smudge on the map. _

_"Careful! Where? Oh, that's Spain."_

_"You mean 'the looting bastard who can't mind his own bloody business'?"_

_"Erm, well..." England looked uncomfortable as he realized how much he swore around the younger countries._

_"What about this?"_

_England seemed relieved to have an out and quickly looked to where Canada had poked. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, which were still monstrously large, even then, in confusion._

_"That's the middle of the ocean, there's nothing there." He looked to the shorter blonde, wondering if there was something wrong with Canada's eyes._

_"No, there," he pointed a little higher on the page, to a dark smudge. It had been, once upon a time, a few lines all swirling, but a spill had swirled them together._

_"Oh, that's just a mistake. The currents there are quite bad, so ships tend to avoid that area." England set an elbow on the desk and leant on it, staring at the smudge. "I seem to recall Connor sending a ship out to investigate, but I'm not sure whether they came back. They probably sank, is what happened." The casualness of the statement sent a slight shiver down the North American's backs, and they each grabbed a bit of England, pulling him away from the map._

_"That's boring! Come play with us, Iggy! Before you have to leave!" America pouted, using the puppy eyes he knew England could not resist, pulling the Brit's leg, keeping the foot aloft._

_"Urgk- all right all right! Watch it!" England hopped along, trying to catch up so he could free his leg._

_"_Yo, Canadia!" Matthew was jolted out of his memory by the arrival of modern-day America, who pulled off his headphones as he entered the room. "When did you get here?"

"A little while ago- you shouldn't have your music so loud, eh? I rang the bell."

"Sorry bro. 'Noise-canceling'." He gestured to the headphones, then came up next to his brother, looking at the map. "The world sure looks different now."_  
_

"Yeah. People know South America isn't a weird rectangle."

"And Greenland has a western coast."

"And Antartica isn't so pointy."

The two shared a grin. "So where are you headed again?" America asked.

"The smudge."

"Really?"

"Yeah. 'Guess I get to see what it really is, eh?"

America blew a small laugh out of his nose. "Probably just some currents. There's nothing there, dude."

-0-

***Connor=Ireland**

**ff: *stares from doorway* Oh we'll see Al, we'll see what there *snickers while backing into shadows* *trips over something in shadows* *falls over***

**America: What was that?**

**Kumajiro: Some weirdo.**


	3. Where are we?--On His Way

"The knarr is destroyed, so if we're to leave, we will have to make another ship." I turn to Krusa, "How long would it take to build another?"

He scratches under his chin, running the hair through his fingers like a comb. "With the three of us, with almost no knowledge of how to do it..." he deflates, slouching in his seat. "It is impossible."

"_Krusa." _My tone becomes warning, not wanting to hear such bad knews right now.

"I know a little bit!" Bernhold pipes in. "My cousin makes ships with his brother, and showed me a little when they were learning how."

"That's not enough to build a ship!"

"But it's not impossible!"

I have to push Krusa down before he gets up and punches Bernhold. "He's not wrong," I try to reason with him. "It may take years, but it is not impossible."

Krusa lays back, stretching out on the ground. "You two are idiots. And I am tired. We can talk more later." He rolls gently onto his good side, back to us.

Bernhold stands up, too excited. "You'll see! We'll be fine!" He lowers his arm from pointing at Krusa and sets both on his hips. "We just need to start in the morning and not stop until we are finished."

He may be foolish, but he has a point. And anyways, we may have more help soon.

"Calm yourself, Bernhold. Let him be for now- he is just exhausted from the storm. We all are."

Bernhlod nods, then stands back up. "He can rest while I explore then."

"Explore?"

"How else are we to find the others? And I'm hungry."

At the mention of food, I realize we have not eaten since before the storm set in yesterday afternoon, so I let him go. "Just stay a little bit close- I don't want to go looking for you in the dark."

"I am not a child!"

"Are you sure?" Krusa calls from his place on the ground.

"I'm older than you, aren't I?"

"By one year does not you more of an adult!" Krusa sits up, no longer ignoring us.

"Respect your elders, child."

"I will not listen to crazy old men."

"I am older than both of you!" I add, smiling.

"You're the craziest of all of us!"

Bernhold looks like he's trying to reply, but his chuckles overtake him, and he doubles over. The three of us are in stitches, laughing. It feels good to laugh right now, like nothing bad has happened.

-0-

-0-

Matthew couldn't help feel a little bit disappointed. He'd decided to research the smudge- on a newer map- and it seemed like it really _was_ just a mistake. Someone had put together a coloured map of the world, tracing shipping routes in bright pinks and reds over a black ocean. Each pink line represented one trip, and the build-up made the region on the page darker, more red. The area that was approximately were he was headed was one of the rare bits with some black showing through, and was bordered with only a few pink lines, but it was still explored.

_Oh well. I have to keep on task anyways._

Sliding the printout back into the stack, he turned to look out of the small window hole, staring at the extensive dark ocean. The boat wasn't _too_ big, but definetly had the bulk to be able to last the two months out in the middle of nature. In a word, it was rather cozy.

And a bit cramped.

The low ceilings did not help, but at least those were limited to the lower decks, were the living quarters and engines were. Matthew was going to be spending most of his time out of those areas anyways, so it didn't really bother him.

Speaking of, he remembered that he was supposed to go check in with the captain, and a few crew members, generally introducing himself. Canada shoved his stuff in his bunk locker, then slowly made his way up the interior of the vessel, to the main research room.

"Hello," he said to the people already there, looking over their own maps and various equipment. One of them- he was standing closer to the door, looking over a radar screen- noticed and said 'hi' back, getting everyone else's attention in the process.

"Oh good, you're here." One woman with a pair of brown braids trailing down her back came over to the nation, looking him up and down. "I'm Tatiana, but call me Tia. You must be Matt...they said you look young, but I didn't think you'd look..."

"Like a teenager?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"No problem- at least I don't look old." He rubbed the back of his head, briefly thanking any divine beings that might or might exist that he didn't look his actual age.

"Well, we better get started. You'll get the chance to meet everyone at meals, so I'll show you the equipment."

There was a lot of equipment to 'meet'. A radar scanner to watch out for any large objects (boats, whales, etc) and prevent collisions. A radio to communicate with other ships and the mainland. A pair of large computers for data collecting and analyzation. A seizemograph for reading earthquakes and wave strength.

But the largest machine was out of the main room, and deep in the ship, directly below the deck on a platform that could bring it up and down through the levels:

"What is that?" Canada knew what it was, but played the 'clueless new kid' card.

"The mini-sub. You'll be in here, collecting more data from below the water."

"Good thing I'm not claustrophobic, eh?"

Tia giggled at the comment. "You know, for a government type, I'd though you'd be more, erm, uh, uptight."

"Yeah, people tell me that all the time."

Matthew reached out a hand to feel the hull of the mini sub, tracing the dull silver metal. As he let go, he felt the floor shift, the ship turning. He stumbled a bit, but Tia remained stationary, leaning with the changes.

"You get used to it, don't worry. How about a snack?"

-0-

-0-

"All right you old idiots," we have calmed down now from our laughing fits, and I figure now- when we are all in good spirits- is a good time to gather our efforts and find some food. "I think I saw some small animals further in; how about we go catch some of them?"

"Yes!" Bernhold cheers, about to run off. Krusa catches him by the scruff of his neck, jerking him back.

"With no weapons or tools?" Krusa reminds Bernhold about our situation.

I gesture to my sword- it may not be the best for catching and killing small creatures, but it will have to do.

"It washed ashore next to me. Maybe Aegir will send us more of our cargo?" It is a far-fetched idea, though if the god of the ocean was kind enough to give us our lives, perhaps he will give us a few more gifts.

"We should look for more then, and be better prepared for gathering food." Krusa suggests, but it is obvious that Bernhold doesn't want to spend the rest of the daylight on the beach.

"But I need food _now_! I can't look while my stomach is empty!"

"B-" Krusa starts to argue, but I cut him off, not wanting another argument.

"Then you can go catch something while we check the beach." All his energy would probably have him running around, not helping at all. "Do not wander far though- we do not know what lies deeper inside the forest." I hand him my sword gently, silently praying he does not smash it.

"Alright alright! I will not wander far..._mother_"

Bernhold runs off quickly, laughing, before either Krusa or I can retaliate.

We watch the foliage rustling as he passes it, then start walking back out into the sunlight, across the scorching black beach.

"Such a strange colour for the sand..." I mumble, digging my feet in deep so as to find the cooler sand (maybe I should not have discarded my remaining boot so hastily...) Krusa still has his, so he is walking faster than me, picking his way to the edge of the water with a quick pace. I shift my tunic across my back to shield my skin, but I can already feel the sunburn that I have from 'sleeping' all morning in the sunlight.

"I will go left, you can go right," Krusa suggests, squinting in the bright light.

"I already came from the right, before I found you and Bernhold. There was nothing."

"So we both go left then." He resumes walking, and I have to jog to catch up. He walks on the sand, but I choose to cool my feet in the wavy froth.

We traverse in silence for a ways, mostly not looking out to sea to save our eyes from the Sun's light. I have seen few sandy beaches in my travels, but none were this dark- pale beige, white, but never black.

"Where do you think we are?" Krusa's sudden question startles me, and I almost trip. "Do you think this is...it?"

By 'it', he must mean the _Gunnbjarnarsker, _the islands that Gunnbjørn Ulfsson, another trader, said he saw when he was blown off course while traveling to the _Snæland, _though he did not land there. I think it over for a while, remembering how Ulfsson described it, when he was boasting how he found new land. I shake my head.

"No. He said nothing of the black sand, and he said it was much closer to _Snæland- _we are too far to be there, we traveled too far." I am sure we must be further beyond them, from all the time we were voyaging.

"He was probably drunk when he saw them anyways, he certainly was when he told about them- he may have just forgotten to mention them."

Krusa has a point, but the agreement I have on my tongue dies when we round a bend, and spot a large crate floating in. We both quicken our pace, and I arrive just after Krusa, my pants now wet from the splashing of my running.

"I recognise this," Krusa says, crouching down to feel the box with his good hand. "This is extra clothing we brought, mostly Kamini's."

_Kamini._

I feel the great sadness from before come charging back: is my beloved still alive? Or is she lost forever? She looked so scared, when she was in the air...the tree...she hit the tree...

"...dan...Halfdan!" Krusa shoves me, getting my attention. I look to him, and he point to the box. "Help me lift this."

I pick it up, and, despite my pained muscles, shoulder it.

"I'll carry it-"

"I have it. You can carry the next one."

Krusa looks cross, but it would be best not to strain his injury. I may be battered from the storm, but I do not have any broken bones, so I should be fine in a few days.

"Fine." He continues on, using his frustration to lengthen his strides. I have to jog to keep up.

-0-

It is quite a while before he calms down, and by then we find another token of ours: half of the sail from our lost ship. Krusa wraps it around the crate we have, and we decide to head back to Bernhold.

"Maybe that idiot actually caught something, and we can eat."

Krusa scoffs, smiling. "A whole feast, knowing his enthusiasm."

The prospect of food renews us, and we joke about what Bernhold will have.

"A whole roasted pig."

"A barrel of salted fish."

"A boiled frost giant."

"A-"

"Get back here!"

We turn to the forest, watching what could only be Bernhold running around.

"What is that idiot yelling at?" Krusa looks ready to go yell himself, when a smaller figure breaks the treeline, tripping on the change from hard dirt to soft sand. Bernhold burst out behind a few seconds after, waving to us when he spots us.

But I only have eyes for the smaller figure, who, in a panic at seeing Krusa and I, trips again.

A small boy, with light blonde hair, only about three or four years old.

-0-

**Riiiiight- explaining time! It took me a lot of research for this chapter, so I'm sure you guys are a liiiiittle confused about some things, so I'll explain:**

_**Gunnbjørn Ulfsson **_**was a viking who got lost and accidentally discovered some islands that were part of Greenland. Ulfsson did not land to investigate, but he told everyone about his discovery. This story is set a bit after he got back, and Halfdan got curious about the islands, and went to see for himself (and got lost on the way -_-**

**'Snaeland' (Snowland) is what the Vikings first called Iceland, though they had several names for it (btw Iceland was also discovered by some guy who _also _got lost [what is it with these guys and getting lost?! Oh well.]**

**Any guesses as to who the kid is? Anyone?**

**Is anyone even reading this? Please read and comment- even the mean ones will be read and used to improve my writing.**


	4. Mazey Chase

Halfdan watched while Bernhold scooped up the child off the sand, the boy squirming and thrashing.

"Halfdan! I got him! Look!" Bernhold dropped Halfdan's sword to better hold the boy. The child wriggled ferverently, slipping a bit from the adult's hands and almost breaking free. Jolting to catch him, Bernhold ended up holding him upside down.

"Careful!" Krusa hurried over to help correct the child's position, leaving Halfdan standing by himself, stunned.

He had been so sure that the boy was just a dream, a hallucination induced from lying in the Sun's heat, paired with any suffocation affects he had endured when he nearly drowned in the angry ocean. And yet...

Though maybe it was just a coincidence? There had been no footprints in the sand, so it was impossible that anyone had seen him, or gotten close enough to touch him or his beard while he was unconscious.

"So...uh..." Bernhold said. "...What do we do with him now?"

"We...um..." Krusa turned to Halfdan for guidance.

"We can't really eat him, and he doesn't look like he has pockets..." Bernhold shifted the boy to a one-handed hold, against his chest, and made a move to search him.

"And what exactly would he have in his pockets? Food enough for three grown men?" Krusa rolled his eyes, scratching at his make-shift cast.

"But his family might." Halfdan walked in towards them, picking up his sword. "Though I doubt that if we return him in distress they will be generous. Put him down, Bernhold."

"But he'll get away!"

"And we will follow him home, where we can rest and eat, and maybe find the others."

Bernhold hesitated, not wanting to let his prize free so soon. "He's really fast..."

"And we're adults. Or, Halfdan and I are, at least." Krusa poked Bernhold's arm. "Let him go."

As soon as the child was set on the sand, he fled.

Or tried to. He tripped again on the uneven, shifting terrain, then made for the trees.

Halfdan dropped his cargo box on the beach, and ran with the others. Bernhold held the lead, followed by Krusa, who gradually fell more and more behind. But Halfdan barely noticed.

Left, right, right, past a large tree, the knarly roots appearing to be grabbing at his feet.

Down, down through several bushes, downhill 'paths' taking his deeper into the vegetation.

More trees, all closely packed. Around and around a few huge boulders, down a leafy slope.

It was while squeezing in between two intertwined trunks that the Viking started to doubt his judgement. He could barely maneuver in the area, let alone follow a small child that could be hiding anywhere. Looking around, he could no longer see any other people, only intense green.

Leaning back to catch his breath, he listened to his new environment, knowing that Bernhold would be crashing about like a wave in the tight forest. He looked around, and, not seeing anything past the branches right in front of him, pushed it aside. He was surprised at the willowy limpness, not at all like the stark stiffness like the trees' arms back in his native land, hard against the dark, cold winters that shook them free of their foliage each year. No, these trees were soft like hair, and gave way, revealing the view behind.

Halfdan could barely register it.

It was like a the supports of a house: trunks leaned against one another, growing together and holding one another up. Some seemed freshly fallen, while others looked entirely natural, set together as though that was what the Gods had intended.

And indeed, such wild beauty and nature, Halfdan was sure that he had to be dreaming, it was so much like a perfect place, that coud not really exist. Especially that strangely-coloured sand, that felt so very hot against his feet. It felt like any moment now, he would wake, his head on Kamini's lap, still on the ship, rocking on the waves.

_Kamini, where are we? _Halfdan lowered his head, remembering his wife. _Kamini, where are _you_?_

Halfdan did not have time to wonder where anyone else was, as the boy he was supposed to be chasing suddenly dropped down on him from above, startling the Viking and throwing him off-balance. He barely catches the child before he would have hit the ground, rather hard, judging from the angle of his tiny body.

"What the-"

"WHERE ARE YOUUU?"

Halfdan holds fast to the boy, drawing him close into his chest, and listens to the tree above him resound with footsteps, quick and clunky.

"Bernhold? Is that you?" Halfdan yells up at the tree.

The footsteps stop, and silence reigns. Halfdan wonders wether he should yell again, in case Krusa might be nearby too, when he hears Bernhold praying.

"Oh All-Father Odin, please help me against the spirits that know my name and talk to me out of thin air-"

Halfdan felt like placing his hand against his face, but holding the boy was taking up his arms.

Wait. The boy!

Halfdan looked down at the child, who wasn't squirming like mad, as he had been doing before. Instead, he was gently running his fingers through the man's beard, toying with the hairs. His heartbeat felt erratic, like a scared rabbit, but was calming due to the shock of falling. Halfdan shifted the boy to a more comfortable position, somewhat cradled against him with one arm, then looked up to yell again.

"Bernhold! It is I, Halfdan! I am underneath you, not a a spirit."

"Halfdan? But how are you under the dirt?" Bernhold stopped praying, and kicked at the 'ground'.

"It is not dirt!" Halfdan walked out from under the tree, but still could not see his comrade. The flora twisted and bent around, making a natural wall between the shipwrecked blondes. "It is a tree!"

Halfdan returned to his previous place under the twisting trunk, and searched upwards. He saw some light filtering through the hole that the boy had fallen through, that is occasionally cut by Bernhold's steps.

"Look down!"

Bernhold obeys the instruction and crouches low. It just seems like a jumble of roots to him until he sees the impromptu escape-hole. He sets his face right up to it and peers in. With the light blocked by his head though, it is dim, and takes a minute for his greenish-blue eyes to adjust. During that time, Halfdan grabs a stick and extends it upwards, poking his comrade in the cheek. The child giggles. From their angle, Bernhold looks like he is part of the tree, a sprite of sorts.

"Halfdan! I thought I had lost you...How did you get down there?" Bernhold's face disappears and is replaced by his arm, which swings around, trying to travel through. The arm and the face change places again. "Is Krusa with you?"

Halfdan looked out from under the tree, but could only spot more plants.

"...no. He must have gotten separated when we were chasing this rascal." Halfdan bounced the boy up and down. The kid clung onto the adult's arm, steadying himself. "What kind of land IS this? It is so strange, twisting and turning." Halfdan looked about, tracing his path with his eyes. He had gone downhill, and could see the ground continuing to slope down...but there were thick twisting branches and trees, interlocking like the arms of two best friends. They blocked some of the terrain, forcing any passersby to clamber about. Then again, the trees seemed to offer a great vantage point up high. Thinking, Halfdan went to the closest tree and peered up. The trunk was too steep to climb while holding the boy, so he decided to go for the next one, smoothed into a gentle ramp by weather and animal feet.

The man and the child tread across the tree carefully, feeling the moss for any slickness. Shuffling along, they circled about. So focused, the Viking nearly forgot about Bernhold scrabbling away at the barrier. A small slide of the left foot plopped Halfdan onto his rear, gripping the child tightly with his free arm and the tree with his legs. He glanced about, but could not recognize the area or where in it his comrade might be.

"Bernhold!"

"What?"

The sound just a bit below him and behind caught him off-guard and he started to slide upside down. Steadying himself, he glanced down, but only saw more branches. He looked to the boy.

"If I put you down, will you run off? I can I trust you to come down with me?"

The boy shivered, but said nothing.

Halfdan held the boy a bit away from him, forcing eye contact. "Where is your family? Are they nearby?"

The boy's eyes darted around, uncomfortable with the gaze. At length, he shook his head.

Halfdan blinked several times in surprise. No? As in the boy was shipwrecked like them? Or no as in his family was far away? _He's so young to be alone..._

He carefully set the boy on the tree.

"Come. We will climb down to Bernhold. Then how about some food? Are you hungry?"

The boy's and Halfdan's stomachs both growled. Halfdan laughed, catching a small smile from the child.

"Come on. Be careful not to fall."

-0-

**Oh wow I haven't updated in so long...not that anyone actually reads this one (and yet when I put out another story it takes off like hotcakes (yes I know thats not the expression hush))**

**Please read and write me a comment! I adore reading them and yeah**


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